I was angry with myself for taking this so seriously

Itouched my earlobe. There was a split second of disbelief before reality hit my brain. I turned my head to the right to see my reflection in the mirror. Left ear, earring. Right ear… nothing.

I told myself not to panic. I’d just changed out of my bleach-spattered top after cleaning floors and scrubbing bathrooms. My brand-new white gold earring was probably caught on a thread.

But turning the top inside out and back again produced nothing. I frantically flapped it in the air, hoping to hear a little clang of an earring hitting the floor, all the while trying to think when I'd last seen it.

My stomach began its descent as I realized I’d forgotten to take my earrings out the night before — something that never happens. Which meant I’d slept in them, which led to the logical conclusion that the missing earring was in my bed.

Only, I’d changed the linen that morning! And washed it. And stuck it in the dryer.

Time to panic.

I dashed off a message to my friends — Please daven for me. Lost my new white gold earring, gonna turn the house upside down!

I muttered Amar Rabi Binyamin over and over again as I shook out every pillowcase, sheet, quilt cover. I inspected the corners and patted them all flat. No earring.

I pulled back the fresh linen — maybe it had fallen between the sheet and mattress? Mattress and bed? Bed and wall? And floor?

No, no, nope.

The panic intensified.

I couldn’t have lost that earring after waiting so long to buy it! Six months before, a post had snapped off one of my old earrings. I then wore my yellow gold, nice-but-completely-outdated earrings daily until I could justify splurging on a new pair. Three weeks earlier I’d finally gone to choose something I liked — not too showy, not too long, not so small as to be insignificant… in short, a pair of classic white gold earrings that I liked.

And now one had disappeared. It could be anywhere. Down a drain, in the garbage, crumpled underfoot. I’d just finished cleaning the house from top to bottom!

I put money in tzedakah, and pulled on disposable gloves to dig in the drain that collected all the dirty water. No earring. I bit my lip and put towels down under the washing machine, then opened the filter. I emptied the garbage from one bag to another, pretending to be grateful it was only dry junk, dust, and crumbs.

I moved the beds again, looked at the clock and ran to the store — Shabbos was coming, and we couldn’t eat earrings.

My eyes burned with the heat of unshed tears. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to remember what I needed to buy.

I was angry with myself for taking this so seriously.